


These Are All Acts Of Love

by Coldsaturn



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Acting, Angst, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, I will add others later on, Slow Burn, fluffy revenge, subtle but extreme AU, trigger for violent parents
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-16
Updated: 2015-07-25
Packaged: 2018-03-01 19:55:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2785736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Coldsaturn/pseuds/Coldsaturn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke is an actress who gets cast for the new post-apocalyptic show The 100, where she interprets Eliza Taylor. This is her big chance with the American world of cinema, but she has to bear working with that sexist asshole named Bellamy Blake. As if this wasn't enough, the fandom suddenly starts shipping their characters, claiming that there's something passing between them when they look at each other. She's pretty sure what they're talking about is deep loathing, but they still insist on it being chemistry. Figures.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I don't know the actors or the writers in real life and I don't claim that their personalities match my writing about them. I'm just flipping the coin, but the fandom content stays the same. 
> 
> Dedicated to: I received a prompt about the delinquents setting a blind date for bellamy and clarke and they decide to pretend to be a couple as a revenge, but I can't find the post in my inbox anymore and so I can't tag the one who sent it T_T

 

 

"I don't think I'm gonna make it." Clarke muttered under her breath as she nervously glanced at the room full of young and attractive actresses. All dressed up as if they were about to go on a date, they all seemed to know each other already, chitchatting about the latest gossip like high school best friends.

Of course it had to be expected from an audition set in Canada, just like she used to go to auditions in Australia already knowing that she would always meet the same people from when she was a child. Needless to say, that was one of the many reasons she had begged her agent, Lexa, to find something that would let her breathe some fresh air.

Lexa sighed next to her, leaning her head back against the wall. They had been waiting since this morning, and as names were called on and on, Clarke had found herself losing her resolve and confidence. She was a new face here, with a strong Australian accent and a body type closer to the soft and round than the slim and fit the girls around her were so proudly showing off. How could she even think of surpassing them in their own territory and on a tv show that was supposed to be about survival?

They weren't given that much information about it, but Clarke was pretty sure they would want to show skin and ripped clothes, and even though she had always felt good about her body, she had learned that it was not what producers, directors, and most of the audience wanted to see.

Clarke had given enough "Screw that"s to know how many jobs you could lose just because you didn't look like you had been starving yourself since last Thanksgiving. She liked herself, though. From her natural blond hair, intense blue eyes, the mole up the left corner of her mouth, down to her curves. The same ones that everyone was so adamant to make her lose, and that made her feel sexy and confident. A woman through and through. Someone who was free to enjoy life to its fullest, her mother would say. No, she wouldn't give up those pounds for anybody.

"I'm going to get something to drink, call me if they suddenly decide to call random people in." Clarke said as she stood up, lifting her arms and stretching her back.

"Don't stay away too long." Lexa replied without even looking at her, still resting with her eyes closed. Clarke worried for a moment that she would fall asleep in the middle of an audition, but then reassured herself that between the two of them, Lexa was the more mature and professional one. Clarke always ended up forgetting about anything that was not acting her part, which in the past had lead to some really embarrassing moments where she would forget about interviews and ignore director's guidelines because the character was simply telling her to do otherwise. She'd probably be unemployed if it weren't for Lexa taking care of her.

Clarke headed towards the corridor on the left, knowing that behind the third door on the right she would find the vending machines. As she walked she tried to ignore the eyes pointed at her back, but it was damn difficult when they weren't even trying to hide it; voices went silent when she passed near them, making her think that they were talking about her. It was her first real chance at making something big of her career, and she couldn't shut out the thought that every single girl in the room felt that Clarke was the only foreign object in the room, and in fact she was. She straightened her back and did her best not to be bothered by the cold atmosphere she was leaving behind.

Clarke breathed out, forcing her stomach to settle. She was way too nervous for this audition, and she was not used to her body not following her will. She needed to be calm and concentrated. She wanted this job, she needed it to move out of her comfort zone in Australia, and she would be damned before she'd let herself screw up this chance.

As her goal got closer, Clarke heard people talking, their deep voices giving away that they were all males. Clarke could use some company, after all the female rivalry she had breathed in that hall. She turned around the last corner, finding three guys laughing together right in front of the vending machines.

"Have you seen the last one?" Said in a thick Australian accent the guy with his back to her, his right shoulder against the plastic glass of the machine, his build speaking volumes about how much time in the gym he had probably spent morphing his body into the most perfect shape it could achieve. Just the flex of the muscles under his tight t shirt was enough to make Clarke's mouth go dry. And she was not the only Australian soul dispersed in the middle of the cold side of the American continent!

There was no way Clarke could confirm if they were part of the cast--Lexa had told her that all the male actors had already been auditioned two weeks prior--or the staff, but hearing her accent coming out from another mouth helped her relax a little. Clarke sighed, wanting to smack herself. She had come all the way from Australia to start anew and here she was, getting emotional because someone was from her homeland. For all that Clarke knew, he could have been born here in Canada and picked up his accent from his parents. There was no reason for feeling like they were comrades.

The guy at his left whistled, closing his eyes and shaking slowly his head. He was pretty slim compared to the other two, and his face, from the profile Clarke was able to see, made him look young. He had sweet features, the ones that usually made you trust somebody too soon.

"That cutie had her eyes on you already." The other brown haired guys commented with a smirk, mirroring the position of the one with his beautiful back at Clarke. Clarke couldn't see his face from here, but his stance and tone of voice were all about self confidence and friendly sarcasm.

"She's not good enough to play my counterpart, but I honestly hope they’ll pick her to play one of my fuck buddies. Wouldn't mind acting that part with her." The first guy's voice was a deep rumble compared to his companions', and Clarke found herself eavesdropping their talk, without making the move that would reveal her presence. She knew by now that they were from the cast, and the one with curly black hair--and the glorious backside, yes--had a big enough part that the girls were doing their auditions with him. Clarke would probably have to do the same, so gathering some intel about him and the others who already had a role would be pretty useful. She'd be happier if they stopped talking like complete assholes, but one could never hope enough with men.

"As if you needed the sex scene to have her in your bed!" The second guy said mockingly, slapping lightly the first guy's arm.

The first guy simply shrugged. "Of course, but when there are other people watching, chicks always get shy and so, so much wetter." He tilted his head toward the second guy and Clarke could almost picture his raised eyebrow, even though she still didn't know his face. She already hated his guts.

The other two burst out laughing, and Clarke debated whether her need for coffee was strong enough to force her to get close to that bunch of little jerks. She had hoped she could take a break from the acidic and hypocritical world of the cinema just to end up listening to three boys bragging about their conquests through work. Through something that Clarke valued more than her own life. Acting was Art, and Clarke couldn't stand those who didn't recognize what an honor it was to have this kind of job.

Thinking that she had to go back as soon as she could or Lexa would chomp her head off, Clarke cleared her throat, finally coming out of the shadows. The guys stopped talking and turned their heads, looking for the origin of their interruption. Now Clarke had a clear view of their faces, and even though she was happy to confirm her observation skills--the second guy really had a boyish face with curly dark hair, hollow cheeks and a full big mouth always set in a smile--, she mentally found herself in a corner the moment she glanced at the other two.

The third guy was one of those cases where the total was more than the sum of the single parts; big blue eyes set a little too apart by an important nose on a relatively small face, pouty mouth and unruly, straight brown hair together formed a face you could not tear your eyes from. Confident-and-sarcastic guy was one hell of a handsome man. But the real problem was the one Clarke had already appreciated from the back side. Oh, Clarke was in so much trouble with him.

As if having a body worth to die for wasn't enough, he was also unfairly beautiful, in a rough and masculine way. Curly black hair covered his forehead, setting the stage for strong lined eyebrows, black eyes, an elegant nose and a downturned mouth. And Clarke would have been satisfied for life with this, but he had to go for the kill with freckles all over his cheeks and nose, dimple on his chin, and a semi-permanent smirk pulling at his right cheek.

"Holy shit." Clarke breathed out before she could stop herself.

The guys stood as if frozen by her presence, until the third guy--may he be damned for those eyes--asked, "You need something?"

The boyish guy added, "Are you lost?", smiling encouragingly.

Clarke stared at them and then at the first guy, forcing her tongue to move in her mouth and prove that she had in fact a working brain, even though she had her doubts at the moment. "Uh, I...I wanted coffee." She managed to blurt out in the end, pointing vaguely at the hot beverage dispenser the first guy was leaning on.

He turned to look at it as if he was just now realizing its use, and promptly pushed with his shoulder, bouncing off of it and walking two steps toward the guy in front of him. Clarke heard him mutter "Sorry" as she walked forward, already pulling out the coins from the pocket of her jeans.

She smiled briefly at him, then turned toward the machine with all the intention of drowning her anxiousness into a stupidly large amount of caffeine. Once she had put the coins inside, she regulated how much sugar she wanted in it, and then pressed the button for the coffee. Feeling eyes on her, Clarke glanced at her left, finding the freckled young man right next to her, observing her every move. _What.the.actual.fuck._ Way to give her a heart attack.

"You here for the audition?" He asked, lifting only one side of his mouth in a flirtatious smile as his eyes fell openly on her cleavage, not on display but still pretty evident under her white turtle neck sweater. Right, she had almost forgot that the disturbingly good looks didn't come in package with neurons.

"No, I heard some people praising this coffee machine and I just had to try it out at least once in my life."

The other two guys snorted, while he frowned for a moment and then smiled, pushing his accent to the point where it sounded almost ridiculous. "Yeah, Aussie coffee sucks. I'm Bellamy." He offered his hand for the shaking, but just as Clarke was about to lift her right arm, the machine beeped loudly. She pursed her lips and raised her eyebrows in a silent apology, then lifted the plastic flap with one hand and took the steaming coffee with the other. Bringing it to her mouth, she blew the thick smoke toward his face. "I'm Clarke."

Clarke glanced at the other two, including them in her half-assed introduction, not wanting Bellamy to think she had all her attention on him.

The guy who had asked her if she was lost smiled kindly, raising a hand in salute. "I'm Jasper, nice to meet you." Clarke couldn't help but return the smile right before she covered half of her face behind the cup. She glanced at the last guy, waiting for him to end this awkward exchange of names, and maybe finally allowing her to go back to her agent.

Bellamy moved aside, sensing that the other guy was about to speak. The last guy looked at her from head to toe, openly checking her out, and Clarke felt her cheeks catch on fire. She wanted to go away right that very moment, but if these guys were part of the cast, the best thing she could do was giving them the illusion she could be friends with them. Needless to say, aside from Jasper--who still looked like the good guy stuck with bad friends--, Clarke would have very happily given a lesson in manners to the other two. Lexa would be so proud of her as soon as Clarke told her that she managed not to slap some sense into the umptenth dickhead's hollow skull.

Beautiful-and-creepy guy finally decided it was time to speak. "John. But everyone calls me Murphy."

Clarke sipped her coffee just to cover her face from Murphy's scrutiny. Clarke somehow knew that he was trying to gain the upper hand right from the beginning, but he was clearly about to find out that he was out of luck with her. Swallowing down the caffeine, Clarke nodded toward him, before glancing at the other two. "Ok John. Jasper, Bellamy, it was nice to meet you. See you around." _Let's hope I won't._

Clarke spun on her heels and left the three companions in front of the vending machines, not even bothering to wait for their reply. Walking down the corridor, Clarke found herself accelerating her pace to get away from them, a sudden rage getting hold of her. Who did they think they are? How could someone be so rude as to consciously make a girl uncomfortable by checking her tits right in front of her? And what the hell was that talk about girls getting shy and wet while filming sex scenes?! God, Clarke wanted to go back to them and say what she really thought. Fucking sexist assholes.

The hall opened up before her and Clarke had never been happier of seeing Lexa. In four big strides, she power walked through the groups of rivals and sat next to her agent with too much force, sending half of the coffee in her cup on her hand.

"Ah fuck! Fuck the coffee and fuck this place and fuck those idiots!"

A white paper tissue appeared in front of her face and Clarke took it, silently grumbling about her bad day. Lexa lay her hand back on her left leg and asked, deadpan, "Did you enjoy your sixteen minutes long break?"

"Don't even start Lexa, I've met two of the most irritating people in the whole world. I swear to god if they get closer than ten feet from me again I'm going to ruin their stupid pretty faces."

"Let me guess: other dirty sexists?" Lexa took the cup from her half burned hand as Clarke went on cleaning her wrist with the tissue, and casually started drinking from it.

"Stupid self-entitled pricks. As if they'd never seen a pair of tits in their whole life." Clarke muttered under her breath almost trembling from anger, now that the damage on her left sleeve was printed in beige with coffee aroma. Lexa opened her mouth to say something but didn't get the chance to do it, as the door for the small room in which all the candidates were sucked in opened, and a female voice called "Griffin!".

Clarke's heart ran behind her knees, and she was sure her face must have paled at least four tones. This was going to suck. She stood up, slowly folding her sleeves up to her elbows to hide the stain. This was going to suck so much Clarke would remember the taste of failure for years.

Clarke looked at Lexa, in search of courage, a suggestion, or an escape plan. Any of those would have done at the moment. But Lexa simply nodded dramatically, like a mother ready to sacrifice her son for the sake of the war. She had such a talent for dramatic and theatrical actions that Clarke often wondered why she didn't study to become an actress. She promised herself she would ask her about it in the near future.

Ignoring all the other girls, who were probably digging holes in her back with their stares, Clarke stepped into the room and closed the door behind her. It was smaller than the hall where she had waited, a small window on the left let the winter sun filter through, lighting in cold white the parquet; a table was placed near the end of the squared room where four people sat with matching bored expressions; a small door on the right corner behind them left Clarke wondering if that was the emergency exit, because now that the time had come to prove herself as an actress and try to make the 'big jump' into the American market, she wasn't sure she was ready.

The man at the centre took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes, muttering something to the blonde woman at his right, who simply shrugged and said "Dunno.", before looking at her and smiling. Clarke did her best to move the muscles of her face, but the result was probably pretty lame, if the grin faltering from the woman's face was anything to go by.

"Clarke Griffin, right?" She asked, and Clarke mentally slapped herself to attention. She wouldn't let her fears make her fail. She wouldn't go down without a fight.

Raising her head, Clarke relaxed her shoulders and looked at the four judges in the eyes. "Yes."

The man at the centre, who still hadn't spoken a word to Clarke, said something to the other woman on his left and she stood up quickly, heading toward the door behind them.

"You'll excuse us, we need the co-readers but they're momentarily missing." Said the woman from before.

Clarke smiled, shaking her head, "I'm not in a hurry." She wondered who they were, though, and how they could be so rude as to disappear in the middle of an audition. Didn't they know that they were needed?

"While we wait," The man finally said to her, "I'll explain how we're going to do it. You'll act lines from all the main female characters, and we'll see if some work better than others. Based on your performance, we'll decide whether to make you try some secondary characters as well."

Clarke nodded firmly, twisting the hem of her sweater between her fingers. She needed to stop that or they would think she was shy and anxious, and that would influence their decision. She fought hard to steady her shallow breathing, and finally relaxed her hands.

The man at the end of the table gathered some paper sheets in his hands and passed them to the man at the centre, then resumed doing the same thing with the other papers scattered on the table before him. Two women and two men. If they were the writers of the show, that would give an interesting cut to the story. Clarke had never seen a survival show where the writers weren't all male.

The first woman cleared her throat and answered the unasked question on Clarke's lips. "Yes, we're the writers of the show. I'm Morgan, this is Jason--who is also the executive producer--, then at the end of the table is Aaron, and the one who went to find those idiots is Kim."

Clarke felt the urge to bow her head to show deference. She wanted these people to like her enough to keep her. _Just don't make me go back to Australia empty-handed._

Instead, she pushed the kindest smile she could muster without breaking her face and said cheerfully "It's a pleasure to meet you all!"

Everyone smiled back at her, and right before an awkward silence could thicken the air of the room, the door at the far corner opened and Kim came back almost trotting, her hair flapping away from her face. Were the co-readers so far away that she had run all the way back?

Kim sat down and hastily pushed some rebel locks of her chestnut hair behind her ears. "I'm sorry for the wait, we can start now. And by the way, I'm Kim, one of the writers of this show, nice to meet you." She smiled and then turned to Jason without even waiting for a reply from Clarke, talking quickly to Jason and gesticulating wildly as he calmly listened to her, nodding occasionally.

The door was still open and Clarke could hear the faint sound of steps coming closer. Finally, a young man emerged from the dark corridor, and Clarke almost rolled her eyes. Were all the actors of this show chosen from a model catalogue? He was so good-looking it wasn't even funny. Brown hair long enough to touch his shoulders, set in a rebellious style that left her wondering if he looked like that in bed too; almond shaped dark eyes framed by perfect eyebrows; thin and straight nose; high cheekbones and soft lined jaw, pointing the attention to the most beautiful set of lips with a cupid's bow Clarke had ever seen. And he was also tall, she realized as he walked toward her. He had to be pretty muscular too.

"Sorry for the delay, I'm Finn." He offered his hand, smiling, and Clarke wondered if this was how getting hit by a truck and waking up in heaven felt. She was so not used to having all these hot guys around. Clarke raised her hand to shake his, and the only thing she could focus on was how soft and warm his palm felt against hers. _Get a grip, girl!_ "Uh, yeah. I mean, I'm Clarke. Hi."

Finn grinned at her, probably thinking she was an idiot, and Clarke stared at his mouth, wondering how someone could be this good-looking. She was so screwed.

"I guess we’ve found our Lindsey." Aaron joked, breaking the accidentally intimate moment with Finn. Clarke turned back at the writers, now laughing at what Aaron had said, too embarrassed to look straight at them or ask if being Lindsey was a good or a bad thing. Was she even a character in the show?

"Not so fast."

Clarke's blood froze the moment she heard that deep voice. She had hoped she wouldn’t have to hear it again so soon, but Fate was generally a dick. Turning toward the door, she found Bellamy leaning against the doorframe, that irritating smug grin still plastered on his mouth. Clarke confirmed that she couldn't throw daggers out of her eyes. Too bad. She squared her shoulders, making herself stand straighter, looking taller than she was. Out of the corner of her eyes, the writers were watching their interaction with mild interest.

Jason turned to look at him, an eyebrow raised in a silent question. For some reason, Clarke thought that Jason was challenging him. Bellamy closed his eyes and slowly breathed out. Finn stepped back, creating an empty circle around Clarke that looked like he was feeding her to the monster. Whatever was going to happen, Clarke could sense that it wasn't going to be nice.

Bellamy opened his eyes and focused on her. A shiver ran down her back, the sudden weight of his stare freezing her on the spot. She forced herself not to feel intimidated by him, even though it was a pretty difficult task. The flirtatious dick had disappeared, that was for sure. As he strode toward her, his shoulders moving in countertime with his hips, his legs bowed as if he was walking on a different ground, Clarke knew on a visceral level that she was facing his character.

There was just a moment of confusion where Clarke felt disoriented about what she had to do. Was she supposed to improvise and follow Bellamy's lead, or was this just a show off on his part? Clarke was sure she had heard some girls who had just come out of this room talking about the parts they had to read, so why didn't they give her a script?

She looked at Bellamy, hoping that he would give her some clue on what was going on. Maybe it was for the panic in her eyes, but his gaze softened ever so slightly. "C'mon!" He whispered encouragingly, and for a moment Clarke saw the glimpse of another Bellamy, lasting so little that she could have easily imagined it. Among other things, Clarke was also realizing how good he was at acting, given how quickly he could switch from one character to another by simply changing the warmth in his eyes--, but he still helped her to find her footing again.

"Who am I?" She asked the writers without breaking eye contact with Bellamy. He stopped right before going flush against her, invading her personal space with the clear intention of playing a power game. His eyes were blazing with hatred, the heat radiating from his body an uncomfortable reminder of their proximity.

"You’re Eliza Taylor. Your wristband tells your mother that you're alive. Bob, Bellamy’s character, wants you to take it off so you all can be independent, but you can't let your mother think you're dead. It's a matter of life and death. You're strong-willed and believe in justice, he's a rebel and is against every good thing you stand for." Jason promptly replied.

Clarke nodded, trying to get a hold of her character in a handful of seconds with the details Jason had given her. It wasn't much, but it would have to do. Also, thinking about Bellamy as her antagonist was going to be easier than they expected. She looked up at him and stepped forward, forcing him to go back a fraction if he didn’t want to make this an awkward hug. “Leave me alone.” Clarke hissed, menacing.

To his credit, Bellamy didn’t lose a beat. “I will, once you’ve taken off the wristband.” Eyebrow raised in surprise, Clarke registered the total absence of Australian accent in his voice, plus the remarkable drop of tone. He was good, she marveled. He was really good. Forcing herself not to smile as a shot of adrenaline coursed through her veins, she braced herself for one hell of a ride.

“Do you have any idea what we’re risking here?!” Clarke asked in a clean American inflection. She had no idea what she was talking about, and really hoped that Bellamy would pick up her hint and give her some information she could use.

The hard thing about improvisation was that it had clear rules, and if someone didn’t follow them then the whole scene could go awol. On a script the general sense of the dialogue could be showed even many pages after the beginning, but an improvisation was like a tennis match; you and your partner had to throw some info at each other at every single line and work together to reach some shared goal. Only, you couldn’t tell each other what that goal was, so you had to leave as many breadcrumbs as possible and make sure that your partner was always where you wanted.

Bellamy clicked his tongue, looking away for a moment before going back to her. “I don’t give two shits about the risks.”

Clarke waited a second for Bellamy to go on with the sentence, but then one corner of his mouth went up and she knew that he was done with his turn. Fucking asshole. “Just because you’re a selfish, self-entitled bastard, it doesn’t mean that you have the right to make other people pay for that.” It was out of her mouth before she could even think if it was in character or not, but seeing Bellamy’s mask crack for a moment was definitely worth it.

“Those ‘other people’ will thank me because I have freed them. Who are you to decide what’s better for them? What does a goody-two-shoes like you know about the world?”

"And you want me to believe that you do?! That you care? You care only about yourself, and we both know it." Clarke snapped at him, anger mounting inside her and lines blurring into truth as she found herself struggling to make something of her audition with Bellamy openly trying to hinder her. They were still at each other's faces, both too proud to step back and admit defeat.

Where Bellamy seemed completely absorbed in his role, too far inside himself to even recognize what was around him, Clarke had to keep one eye open to reality, to keep the scene going until the writers told her to stop. She just hoped she was going in the right direction.

Bellamy's pupils squeezed into two black spots, the rich brown of his eyes gaining warmer hues as they captured the light brown under their feet and the yellowish tone of the neon light on the ceiling. Jaw twitching, he seemed to become even taller than before, to the point that a far corner of Clarke's mind--the one that wasn't peeing in its pants--wondered if he was hiding his true stature right for these moments. She had hit a sore spot without even knowing.

"Everything that I've ever done," Bellamy hissed, his lips pursed as if he was stopping himself from biting her neck off, "has always been for my sister. Is that clear?" He demanded, and Clarke gulped down a whimper. "Is that clear?!" Bellamy repeated, looming over and covering the last corner of light that was hitting Clarke's face.

His shadow closed her in a cage, and Clarke's mind threatened to shut off. His baritone voice was too similar to the one still haunting her dreams, the suffocating feeling of having an angry monster breathing the air coming out of her mouth still too vivid under her skin. Clarke managed to stay where she was, but she knew she had started shaking. She was going to screw up this audition by having a frigging flashback right in the middle of the act, and the tragedy was that it meant there wasn't a safe place anymore.

Acting had always been her safety net, the layer protecting her from what was inside her mind, preventing old demons from coming at her as long as she was someone else. Why was Bellamy's performance destroying that shelter? How was it possible that she had been able to use this art for more than half of her life without ever forgetting that she was safe because everything was fake, and now she just wanted to crawl under that damn table and cry? Why was her body reacting as if Bellamy wasn't acting? Taking courage and looking up at him, a stranger was staring down at her, still expecting an answer.

With her blood turning cold, Clarke shuddered once again, the knowledge that Bob could really hurt her gripping her stomach into a tight knot. The sheer terror clouding her mind was probably the only natural reaction she could muster after realizing that Bellamy wasn't really acting. There wasn't a single molecule of Bellamy before her.

Someone from the table cleared their throat--probably Kim, judging by the timbre of voice and the origin of the sound--and Clarke turned to them, the distraction enough to snap herself out of the fog she was choking in.

"Look at me and answer!" Bellamy growled, sounding even angrier than before because she had turned her attention elsewhere. He didn't seem to care about the fact that there were other people in the room. Clarke swallowed her insecurities--no, there wasn't any cue on the writers' faces whether she was doing a good job--and brought her focus on Bellamy again. On Bob. _This is an act_ , she thought, reassuring herself. _I am not me_.

Bellamy's jaw did another twitch.

 _Eliza is not afraid of him_. Breathing out, Clarke forced herself to sound confident and determined. "The only way my mother is gonna think I'm dead, is if I'm dead. Got it?"

"Sounds like a plan." Bellamy replied, deadpan.

Clarke used again the same inflection from before, "I dare you to."

If he wanted her wristband, he'd have to cut off her hand or kill her. In her eyes probably shone that message, because Bellamy looked intensely at her and then snorted, half-amused and half-disgusted. "Such a brave princess you are," he lowered his voice, making sure that no one else would hear them, "you're gonna regret it."

"Ok, that's enough."

Jason's voice made the both of them jump in surprise, and Clarke felt the room coming back around her with its original context. She had begun to lose herself into the character, it was almost a pity that she hadn't been able to go on. There was something about Eliza that spoke to her on a deeper level, as if she was the person that Clarke wished she could have been, when her life demanded a backbone of steel and she gave back only soft sobs.

Bellamy cleared his throat, and when Clarke glanced at him, she couldn't mistake the pose and his expression. He was back as himself. Bellamy turned to her and winked, the smirk back in place but with his eyes still set on an intense gaze that she knew was Bob's more than his.

Morgan scribbled something on a paper, as Aaron and Kim started talking in whispers. Jason simply stayed there with his face resting on his hands, looking at them as if he was studying two aliens; deeply interested but slightly creeped out. Then he was distracted by something behind them and nodded. Clarke remembered that Finn was there too, but didn't want to miss the writers' faces right when she could read what they were thinking about her first performance.

Kim finished writing and looked up at her, smiling formally. Clarke's stomach dropped. That smile was never good news.

"Thank you, we'll contact you as--" Jason started, but was cut off by Bellamy, who had apparently his own plan.

"If she's not my Eliza, you'll have to find another Bob."

Like, _what_.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited by [Zoadgo](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Zoadgo/pseuds/Zoadgo), who still hasn't abused her divine power at work. seriously gurl, you're the BA-boss (baboss, I'm gonna die laughing), give 'em hell *o*
> 
> Thanks to anyone who will read it, comment it, _kudos it_ , ignore it etc.  
> Feel totally free to contact me here or on [my tumblr](http://coldsaturn.tumblr.com)!


	2. Chapter 2

 

Clarke walked out of the room in a daze, leaving behind a cloud of chatters and occasional bursts of voice. She knew that as soon as she stepped out of the threshold, everyone would again be staring at her--be it out of hatred or curiosity--, but her eyes were still fixed on an indistinct point before her, and the rest of the hall was just a blur.

She closed the door behind her, and finally there was silence. Someone approached her from the right, taking her hand and pulling her toward the chairs against the wall. Clarke obediently sat down, feeling like her mind was trying to dig its way out of a mountain of snow.

“How bad was it?” Lexa asked, managing to make Clarke snap out of her trance by sheer rudeness.

She faced her agent, offended, “Excuse you, who says that it went bad?”

Her voice came out too loud and several heads turned toward them, hungry for whatever information they might be hiding. Lexa death-glared every single one of them, creepily resembling a hitman offing their targets one at a time. Once she had killed everyone, she turned to Clarke again, deliberately showing zero remorse for her assumption.

“Your face is not exactly giving off a good vibe.” Lexa justified herself, and Clarke couldn't exactly say that she was wrong. But Lexa hadn't been in that room with her after she had finished her first improvisation. Clarke still had a hard time believing what had happened.

Blinking her eyes, Clarke tried to find the words to explain the scene she had witnessed just minutes before. “I--I did the first improvisation, and I don't know how it went. I mean, the writers weren't exactly amazed by my performance, but then Bellamy cut in and threatened them to abandon the project if they didn't chose me as his counterpart.” See? It sounded completely absurd even as a gossip story.

Lexa stayed completely frozen for several seconds, which should have been cue enough that shit had just got real. “Did you say Bellamy?”

Clarke frowned at her, confused by her reaction. Was his name the only thing that she had registered of the whole thing? She had just been used as a pawn by an actor to threaten the director, how the fuck did these Americans work?! “Did you even hear what I said?”

Lexa rolled her eyes, “Yes, and I'm asking you: are you talking about Bellamy as in THAT Bellamy?”

Clarke's raised eyebrows gave Lexa the answer she wasn't asking for. “Bellamy Blake, Clarke!”

Again, Clarke had to give her the most clueless expression she could muster. “How should I know?! The only Bellamy I've met is that asshole I wanted to choke with my cup of coffee at the vending machines earlier.”

Lexa closed her eyes and brushed her forehead with one hand, as if to fix a loose lock of hair, escaped from her perfect twirled semi updo hairstyle. “I swear to God, sometimes it's like you were raised by kangaroos. Dark and curly hair, freckles, half-filipino?”

“Don't start again with those jokes!” Clarke snapped back at her, already feeling that vein in her temple pulsating out of annoyance. Couldn't she just get to the point without making everyone feel as if they were ignorant peasants? “Anyway, yes, seems like we're talking about the same person.” She conceded in the end, leaning back in her chair.

Lexa drew a breath, “Bellamy Blake is one of the most acclaimed actors of the last five years. He started as a model, and then after a couple of calendars his agent threw him into some commercials. From then on you couldn't watch 5 minutes of TV without seeing him somewhere.”

Clarke watched Lexa give her speech with a completely nonplussed face. He was some sort of idol and probably had a huge and crazy fanbase, so what? He wasn't the first and only pretty face on the market, and in fact, Clarke would choose Finn over Bellamy any moment. Why was he such a big deal?

“He's appeared in something like 17 different TV shows, and always with an unforgettable character. These last two years he's been busy with a couple of cinema movies, and the TV show you're auditioning for right now is his official come back to the small screen.”

Clarke stared at Lexa as her face paled from the effort. She could talk for so long without breathing, it was really remarkable.

“What I'm saying is,” Lexa finally seemed to be reaching the end of her exhortation, “Bellamy Blake is famous enough to threaten who he wants right now, since he's the one who will bring 70% of the viewers, and you're so ignorant I don't even know how you managed to survive without me until now.”

“Wow. Thanks.” Clarke replied, deadpan, trying not to show how embarrassed she was to be caught on her absolute ignorance of Hollywood and everything related. She'd always been too busy saving herself with every screenplay that touched her hands to waste time checking on semi-gods idolized by fans simply thanks to their good looks. But this wasn't the case with Bellamy Blake, was it? Looked like the guy had some real skill to accompany his too-easy-on-the-eye face.

“He's also won two grammys with both movies.” Added a voice behind Clarke, making her jump on the spot. She exchanged a quick look with Lexa, probably sharing the worry of having been eavesdropped on since the beginning of the conversation. Bellamy Blake going out of his way to be with an unknown actress? It would ruin their careers for years.

Turning around and bracing herself for the worst, Clarke saw a cute brunette leant against the empty wall between them and the door leading to hell. The girl smirked, tilting her head to the side, “So Bellamy Blake threatened Jason to take you or he would leave? What did you do to make him fall for you so quickly?”

Clarke felt her cheeks reddening, and if it was out of shame or annoyance, she couldn't tell. That was exactly the kind of gossip that could ruin someone's life, especially in this kind of work. Clarke's face was a mask of stone when she spoke, “I'd really like for you to avoid spitting such nonsense around.”

The girl raised her eyebrows, looking at Clarke as if she had no idea what she was talking about. Clarke made her voice go lower, just to help her understand the point. “I'm serious. This could ruin both mine and Bellamy's career for a really long while, and my lawyer's a dick, I'd hate to have dinner with him so soon.”

At this point Clarke expected some kind of reaction like anger, worry, amusement, arrogance, whatever. What she wasn't expecting was for the brunette to look at Clarke as if she had just accepted her as her comrade. Her smirk grew wider until it was a full blown smile and her whole stance relaxed in what looked like satisfaction and relief altogether.

It was safe to say that Clarke had no idea what was happening, but somehow didn't want to ask for clarification either. This was probably something the girl would spend too much time telling, and Clarke had other things on her mind at the moment. Like waiting for Jason or the other writers to tell her if she had got the part or not.

Mere seconds later the door opened and all the other actresses in the room squealed in unison. The explosion of squeaks was sudden enough that Clarke's ear literally rang. Brunette closed her eyes, pursing her lips in annoyance, and from her right, Clarke heard Lexa groan. Yeah, the three of them had that in common, they couldn't stand fangirling.

From behind the brunette emerged Bellamy's head, looking a little tired out but satisfied nonetheless. He was already looking at Clarke, and her heart spiked up. He had the answer Clarke was betting her whole life on, and for now it didn't matter that it also meant owing him, if they both got what they wanted. Clarke would have gladly paid for his lunch and dinner for years if that meant that she could stay in America and actually work.

The voices died out pretty fast once Kim called for another girl--someone named Raven, apparently--and the whole audition routine started again. Sure, it wasn't exactly the religious silence Clarke would have demanded for something this important, but she could bear with the excited whispers all around her as long as she got to hear what Bellamy had to say.

Brunette turned around and smiled at him, giving him a peek at his cheek. Bellamy leaned for it with ease, revealing a habit in their evident relationship. Dammit, Clarke had been talking shit about Bellamy with someone who knew him. Then she thought of Lexa's words; ok, maybe it wasn't that easy to find someone who didn't know him, but still, her luck had chosen someone close to him.

“You're late.” Brunette said as Bellamy walked around her and found the perfect pose to be both in front of Clarke and in a gracious 3/4 for the rest of the girls. Yup, debt or not Clarke still hated his guts. “Didn't know you were a talent scout too.”

“Shut up, O, I have my reasons.” Bellamy said, nudging her lightly while keeping his eyes on Clarke.

“Yeah, I can imagine. She seems different from the others.” Brunette conceded.

“I am right here, you know?!” Clarke cut in, shaking her head in disbelief. Was everyone in this building rude just out of fun or what? Did Bellamy chose his friends based on how close to his douchebaggery they were?

Brunette literally giggled, picking up her bag from the floor. “I can't wait to get to know you better! And by the way, I'm Octavia, this idiot's sister.” She offered her hand and Clarke moved out of habit, shaking it and muttering her name in return. Then was Lexa's turn to introduce herself to both Octavia and Bellamy, politely adding that it was a pleasure to finally meet the Blake siblings. Whatever it meant.

Octavia and Bellamy smiled at Lexa, seemingly used to these kind of comments. Clarke wondered whether Octavia's presence here meant that she was trying to be cast with her brother; Clarke might be completely ignorant about them, but she knew how this world spun, and it was easy to follow a relative into this kind of job. In the end curiosity won over, and Clarke found herself asking, “Are you auditioning too?”

Octavia nodded enthusiastically, “Yes. I haven't worked with my brother in years, it will be nice doing it again.”

Her use of the future as if her role had already been chosen for her gave Clarke a bitter taste in her mouth. This was stinking too much of favoritism. And the worst thing was that they both talked about it as if it were the most natural thing in the world, abusing one's power and connections. If she were to get the part thanks to Bellamy, would it mean that she had taken advantage of him?

Glancing at him, Clarke met his gaze and didn't bother hiding her worry. The wait was killing her, and given the premises, she didn't know if she really wanted this job or not. No, scratch that, point was that she would be willing to take the job regardless of how she would get it, and seeing that part of herself scared her.

“It will be nice working with you too, Eliza,” Bellamy interrupted mercifully her inner monologue and he winked as Clarke's whole body grew rigid.

“Does it mean…”

“Congratulations, you got the main part.” Bellamy said, leaning toward her and lowering his voice.

Clarke's eyes widened in shock and she drew in a breath, ready to shout her joy, when he stepped forward and covered her mouth with his hand, “Don't scream! Do you want the entire hall to hear?”

In that moment she wouldn't have cared less, she just wanted to scream that she had done it, she had come with nothing and got an important part on a new show in fucking America, but then forced herself to think how her reaction would be seen by her future co-workers--the thought made her chest clench in delight--and calmed down. Though she still pushed Bellamy's arm away and turned to Lexa, who was already waiting for her with open arms. Clarke hugged her, trying to choke down the screams and giggles and tears that were all fighting to come out of her at the same time.

“Way to go, girl!” Lexa tightened her hold, before releasing Clarke and cupping her face, openly checking if she was crying and possibly melting her makeup. The little nod she gave reassured Clarke that she still had control over her facial muscles. That couldn't be said of her mouth, though, which was constantly pulling for a huge smile.

“I can't believe it!” Clarke muttered under her breath, taking her head in her hands. Lexa lay a hand on her back, rubbing it gently in circles; she knew how big this was, how poignant this single day was for her whole career. In the background Clarke could hear the other girls chatting anxiously now that their number was decreasing steadily as the names were called, but it sounded like something distant from her, as if she were in a completely different place and was watching the hall through the glass of a window.

Then Kim called for “Blake”, and Octavia shifted from one foot to another. Bellamy patted her back as Octavia set the bag on her shoulder so that the belt didn’t pull at her hair. “It will be nice working with you, Clarke,” she said before glancing at Bellamy and Lexa in salute, and running into the room.

Once the door was closed behind them, Bellamy moved so he had his full back at the girls behind him, closing the view Clarke had of the room. Judging from the sudden whispering running around, he was also making a show of his backside. Clarke fought hard not to roll her eyes at him. She had known him only since the afternoon and she was already exhausted as if he had been aggravating her life for decades.

“Once the cast for the main characters is complete we'll organize a dinner to get to know each other better, will you come?” Bellamy asked, sounding hopeful and just a little bit shy. He put his hands in his pocket, raising his shoulders and making himself look three times cuter.

Clarke genuinely wanted to throw something at him, anything that would make him stop the pitiful show. If he was hoping to buy her the same way he had done with all the other girls, he was in for a big surprise. But she nodded anyway, because bonding with the other actors was adamant, and she was set on giving her best on every level.

Bellamy smiled, adding a “Good.” when he realized that neither Clarke nor Lexa were going to contribute to the conversation. His shy stance wasn't looking so out of place anymore, and Clarke was glad that he didn’t have to keep up with his act any longer; now he could just be genuinely self-conscious in the awkward silence. He should be thanking them for giving him some real context to his performances.

Then one of the girls hooked her arm around Bellamy's and tweeted about needing to exercise her part, and he was off to give some well deserved attention to the remaining candidates.

Clarke followed Bellamy's figure as it was engulfed by one of the groups, and turned to Lexa. “Do we have to stay here or since we know I've got the part we can leave?” She asked a little too eagerly; she was ready to leave this place. It had been a memorable day, and it felt like she had just won the lottery landing such an important role at her first try, but exhaustion was starting to make her shoulders ache. A shower and a bed were much needed.

Lexa grabbed her phone from the pocket of her jeans and flashed the time on the screen by pressing the lateral button. “I'd say we can go, they're going to stop for today in thirty minutes anyway. Plus, they already have my number, so they know how to reach you in case they want something before the signing of the contract.”

Lexa stood up, stretching her arms and rotating her head. Clarke gathered her bag and coat from the arm of her chair and followed Lexa, who was already walking toward the exit. Clarke wondered whether she should tell Bellamy that she was going away--she did have to work with him, after all--but when she looked back she saw him deeply engaged in conversation with the same girl from before, and so decided that goodbyes weren't such a necessity for now.  

 

***  


Clarke tuned out the voices around her, grabbing her beer and sipping from the bottle half heartedly. The pub around them vibrated with music and chattery, the dimmed lights easily forcing an intimate atmosphere among perfect strangers already buzzed with alcohol.

Clarke stared at the bottom of the bottle, gently swaying the bottle neck to move the liquid inside. She knew she had to join the others as soon as possible, that contrary to her they were all doing their best to entertain one another. There were the two guys she had met at the vending machines, Jasper and John, then Finn and Octavia, busy laughing at something that Monty--the only Asian of the group--had said; Raven next to him, who would play the Lindsey the writers had mentioned during her audition; toward the bottom of the table there were "the adults", whose names Clarke didn’t even bother to remember at the moment; lastly Bellamy and Lincoln--the latter right in front of her--who had immediately started talking football with Jasper and John as soon as they got their attention.

She had never been in this part of the town, even though a whole week had already passed since the audition. One could say that Clarke had had plenty of time to enjoy the nightlife in Canada, but in reality she had been much more interested in museums and libraries during the daytime, and cinemas or relaxing readings in her room at the hotel at night. The extremely cold weather didn't exactly push her out of her warm and cozy nest either, but in truth she had to admit that she simply wasn't party material.

Three days before, Lexa had knocked at the door of her room and had told her where the dinner with the main cast would be held. Apparently Bellamy's agent had called her to share the information, and Octavia had even proposed to go shopping for dresses--she had been in the same room with the agent and Bellamy, and had shouted from her spot--, but Lexa thought better than pushing a one-sided friendship with people that Clarke clearly didn't like that much. Polite interactions were more than OK, not so much private pajama parties, shopping, and dates.   
  
Clarke pulled out her cell phone from the bag hanging from the armchair, and checked the screen, a pinch of hope making its way into her stomach just to make it fall back down like concrete, when she realized that there were no messages. With today it had been four days since she had left the voicemail message giving her mother the good news of her hiring, and still she had not received her call. She certainly didn’t expect that her mother would leave her meeting on the spot, or would fly to America just to congratulate her, but she was at least hoping for a text message or a sign that she had personally listened to her voicemail, instead of delegating everything to her assistant. It was a vain hope, and Clarke knew that, but she couldn’t help but take it badly anyway.

“Bad day?”

Lincoln’s voice interrupted her thoughts, and Clarke gave him a small smile, “Something like that, I’m sorry for not being a good company.”

“It happens to everyone. You said you’re from Australia, right?" Clarke nodded, "Where are you staying now?”

“A hotel in Port Coquitlam. Not knowing how long I would have stayed here, I thought of reducing the expenses.”

Lincoln weighed her words, and for a moment Clarke worried about passing as a penny pincher, or having drawn attention to an important difference in social status compared to them. But then Raven’s head showed up and she waved her hand, “I did the same too! But now I have to look for a more comfortable flat, I can’t stay in that hole for another ten months.”

A chorus of “Yes”s and “Right”s travelled along the table. With the corner of her eye Clarke noticed Bellamy and Octavia sharing a glance that looked more like a telepathic conversation. As soon as their eyes left each other, Octavia cleared her throat, “Why don’t we all buy a house where we can stay together?”

Clarke opened her eyes wide, and she knew she wasn’t the only one. The idea was halfway between brilliant and horrific. Great for comfort and savings, potentially disastrous from the social point of view. They could get along at dinner or on the set, but prolonging the time they spent together to 24/7 could create some pretty ugly rifts.

The woman at the head of the table, who Clarke recalled that would be interpreting her mother, intervened, “We did it once some years ago, and it worked very well, but we were only five people. Where will we find a house big enough and with enough bedrooms to contain us all?”

“It’s not that hard finding a huge, empty house around here, trust me,” said John, resting both his elbows on the table and leaning forward.

“You’re Canadian too, right?” Octavia asked.

John nodded, smiling, “Since we know the area, we could go looking for houses tomorrow or the day after,” At the last moment he turned toward Bellamy, who had listened to the whole conversation lain against the backrest of the chair, his arms folded.

Bellamy shrugged, adding with a smirk, “Sure,” and the rest of the table resumed the lively chit-chatting, discussing how many rooms the house had to have, how many bathrooms, if they needed a garage and a porch, and why not a pool--to which Octavia expressed a clear no, explaining how everything would freeze over soon enough--. So they started thinking about an indoor pool, and where they could buy a barbeque, and Clarke raised her eyebrows listening to them, surprised by their sheer need to adopt one another. Maybe working with them wouldn’t be that bad.

Clarke glanced at Bellamy, hoping she wouldn’t get caught, but he was busy with the rest of the group, seemingly absorbed by their discussion. For some reason Clarke had the feeling that Bellamy had been ignoring her for the whole evening, and as much as she didn’t mind it one bit, she still felt curious. Why he had made her obtain the role was still unknown to her. Surely Clarke wasn’t deluding herself thinking that it was because he had been left stunned by her interpretation, and if nothing else, he had openly tried to hinder her during the improvisation.

Clarke shifted uncomfortably on the chair. She didn't want to think that she had got the role because maybe Bellamy hoped to get it on with her; and Bellamy's attitude didn't seem pointing at that option either. Clarke sighed, deciding to find an excuse to be alone for a while; it was useless forcing herself if her mind was literally on another continent.

She stood up, grabbing her coat from the backrest and sliding from chair to chair until she was out of the table, excusing herself by muttering about getting some fresh air for her starting headache. It was a half-truth: she did have a headache, but it was for a whole lot of other reasons.

Dribbling her way till the exit door, she finally reached the freezing cold waiting for her. She stuffed her hands into the pockets of her coat, debating whether she would be outside long enough to require gloves. Instead of planning the next half hour, she pulled out her phone and checked once again for messages or missed calls. Her background picture stared back at her, and Clarke mentally slapped herself for being such a needy little girl.

She pressed the number 2 and sent the call anyway, hoping that Lexa wasn't already sleeping. At the third ring she heard a click, “What.”

Clarke smiled at the annoyed tone of her agent. She clearly wasn't sleeping, but wasn't happy to hear of her favourite actress outside working hours either. “Hey, uhm, I was wondering if my mum or her assistant left any message for me.” Maybe Clarke should stop calling herself an actress as long as she failed so pathetically at pretending she didn't care.

And sure enough Lexa didn't buy it for even a second. “No, Clarke, just like I told you this morning, and yesterday, and at lunch two days ago, if I hear from your mum or any of her entourage, you'll be the first I'll run screaming the news to.”

“OK, yeah, sorry for calling so late,” Clarke tried to close the call, already feeling her throat tightening around a bitter lump.

Lexa sighed from the other line, and Clarke could almost see her passing a hand through her hair. Lexa always did that whenever she had to bear with her antics. “I don't mind you calling, you know that,” She said in a much softer tone, empathy and pity mixing together in a perfect mother-hen tone. Clarke had never been able to stand that particular shade of inflection directed to her, officially because she was too proud for that, unofficially because she had never received it when she was little, and was now physically incapable to digest it.

“No, no, I know that, but I still shouldn't have called. I'll leave you to your evening, I have to go back inside the pub before they start wondering if I have frozen my ass off,” Clarke said cheerfully, her lips morphing into an automatic smile that didn't reach even half of her face. But Lexa couldn't know that. “I'll call you tomorrow to tell you about this crazy idea we've been discussing. Goodnight.”

She closed the call without waiting for her reply, even though she hated when someone pulled that shit on her. At that moment Clarke simply wanted to swallow down her desperation and simply accept that her mother wouldn't be able to call her for another week or two, depending on how busy she was with whatever she was doing at the hospital.

The only thing she knew was that her mother was head doctor at the surgical unit of the biggest hospital of her hometown, and just as it had always filled her with pride and awe, it had also left her remarkably alone for her whole childhood, until the rebellious phase hadn't kicked in and she had told herself that it was her who was pulling away, not her mother. And that was without mentioning those hellish two years spent with her alcoholic father, before her mother had finally caught on what was happening inside her own house, and had asked for a divorce. Unfortunately she hadn't been quick enough for Clarke not to show system flaws in her maturing personality.

Clarke shifted from foot to foot, shaking her head to shoo away old demons. She shouldn't be thinking about that, now that she was finally stepping into her new life. The new Clarke wouldn't beg for her mother's attention. And that was just the start. She also planned to stop being scared of male shouts, men towering over her, drunk men--some were dangerous, but fearing the clumsy or the completely asleep ones was stupid--, angry men, men in general. It had screwed with her romantic life enough that Clarke was ready to say a big fuck-you to her old self. It was time.

Clarke looked down at the phone in her hand. Yeah, she could do it. The first step was also the hardest one, and God knows how many first steps had marked her life until now. But in the past she never had to throw herself in a completely new environment, with completely new people, while working for something way bigger than what she was used to. It was easier to think of herself as another person, when nothing around her was the same as before, so Clarke had some real chances here. She put her phone back in the pocket, watching the cars passing by and feeling the weight on her shoulders lift with every cloud of warm breath she exhaled.

The door of the pub jingled behind her, and someone stepped closer until Clarke felt their presence at her right. Glancing in their direction, Bellamy was blowing air into his cupped hands, rubbing them together right after.

“Damn if it's not colder than home,” He commented with a fake surprised tone. Really, now they were making small talk after he had ignored her for the whole evening?

Clarke had to bite the inside of her cheek to stop herself from answering with a dry “No shit Sherlock,” and somehow managed to simply nod, sure that he would be looking at her.

“You've been outside for a while now, is everything OK?”

Clarke frowned at the question. No, it wasn't, but she wasn't about to tell him that, so she smiled reassuringly, “Yes, the fresh air has helped.”

Bellamy studied her face for a few seconds, then shifted his focus on the cars now in line for the red traffic light, just a moment before his stare would turn creepy. Clarke was very thankful for that. “Tomorrow John and Octavia will go around looking for the house. You've been away for most of the discussion, so we didn't get if you're in or not.”

Clarke thought about it, trying to imagine how it would be to live with the main cast for the whole period. She still had her doubts, they were a bunch of strangers very close to engage in a highly stressful activity; being always together would mean war. “Aren't you worried about fights and such?” She asked, genuinely curious.

Bellamy shrugged, keeping his gaze straight ahead, “We are all adults, and fights are a good way to blow off some steam, among other methods.”

The only possible response to that was a majestic roll-eye. It made her think again about what he had said at the vending machines, and how he had helped her get her part. This was a doubt that would end up eating her stomach later, especially if some kind of conflict were to arise with other actors. It was also a real problem if someone were to think that she had got her part simply because Bellamy wanted her, without any regard of her acting skill. Clarke had to know the truth now, so she would have the time to prepare a solid defense.

Turning her head toward him, she bit her lip, trying to find the words to start the topic. The new Clarke would just go straight to the point though. “Why did you decide that I had to be your partner at all costs?” There, it hadn't been that difficult.

While Clarke braced herself for his answer, Bellamy looked down at his feet and then suddenly stepped closer to her, leaning forward till their faces were aligned and at a very uncomfortable distance. Clarke stepped back instinctively, half surprised and half disturbed. That she had some problems with men wasn't a secret, but Bellamy was really putting an effort into mindfucking her, playing with his good looks and then making a complete asshole out of himself.

Her reaction seemed to satisfy him anyway, and he smiled smugly, retreating to a more socially acceptable position.

“I chose you because you're the only actress I've known so far that doesn't want me to fuck her.”

Clarke's eyebrows shot upward so fast that her forehead hurt. That wasn't the answer she was expecting, and it took her several seconds to catch up with all the hidden implications. As soon as she did, though, anger started to boil. “You're kidding me.”

“Nope. I swear that's the reason.”

His completely nonplussed tone only fueled her fire, “How fucking dare you?! Who do you think you are? And what do you think I am, some kind of game? I wouldn't fuck you even if you were the last person on Earth, I surely won't fuck you as a thanks!” When Clarke stopped because she needed more oxygen to go on, she found herself with her index pointed at his chest, both of them several feet away from where they were originally. Apparently Clarke had pushed him enough to make him step back. Her whole body was shaking, and she had to put a conscious effort into relaxing her muscles.

Bellamy's face was a work of art in that moment, a confused mix of incredulity, amusement, satisfaction, and a little shade of worry. Clarke was able to read them all as if they were explicit guidelines on a script; Bellamy was so damn expressive, it only made her even angrier at his horrible personality. She could learn so much from him, and instead he had to be so hideous that she didn't want to be even in the same room as him.

“I think you've completely misunderstood me,” Bellamy started calmly, raising both his hand in surrender, “I don't want to fuck you, you're the first actress I've found who actually wants to act with me, who doesn't give two shits about who I am.”

“I don't know two shits about who you are,” Clarke muttered, offended and at the same time wanting to offend him.

“Yes! And that's amazing!” Bellamy threw his hands up, his whole face lighting up as if it were Christmas.

Was he even serious? Clarke couldn't keep up with all the different faces Bellamy had, it was like being next to a schizophrenic. Either he enjoyed confusing people by acting a different character everytime he spoke to someone, or he was seriously disturbed. Actually, even the first option would prove his mental instability.

“Let me get this straight: you've chosen me as Eliza because I don't like you,” Clarke summarized trying to sound as if what she was saying made sense.

Bellamy nodded enthusiastically, and Clarke slapped him on the shoulder as hard as she could, making him stagger in surprise. “And you think that's OK? Did they even like my acting? Did they even consider me for other better suited roles, you spoiled selfish prick!”

Clarke stalked away from a stunned Bellamy, walking toward the door of the pub literally fuming. As soon as she held the handle and pulled, she found Lincoln right at the entrance, his arm still raised with his hand pointing at the now empty spot where the door was before she opened it. He looked at her and smiled, “Hey, we wanted to know if you'll join us into the Full House, Bellamy was taking too long and some of us will be leaving in a--”

“I won't go anywhere that jerk is!” Clarke snapped back at him, then walked inside, managing to hit his shoulder even though he was extremely tall.

So much for not creating conflicts among her co-workers.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [Zoadgo](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Zoadgo/pseuds/Zoadgo) for the edit and the touristic tour. I still wouldn't know where those poor guys are, if it weren't for her inspired guidance. 
> 
> And obviously thanks to anyone who will read it, comment it, _kudos it_ , ignore it etc.  
> Feel totally free to contact me here or on [my tumblr](http://coldsaturn.tumblr.com)!


	3. Chapter 3

 

The streets were unusually devoid of traffic as Lexa drove out of the centre of Vancouver, running toward the sun burning through the cracks of sky between skyscrapers before them. Already close to sunset, the city was painted in oranges and blues, a contrast in colors that pushed Clarke to lean her forehead against the window, letting the urban panorama slip out of focus. Back in Australia, Clarke would often end her acting classes just before dinner, finding streetlamps reluctantly turning on in anticipation of the incoming darkness, shadows stretching longer toward her neighborhood, a silent dare to reach home before the orange glint had completely faded away. It had tasted of contentment, of freedom to play with the world around her, to go back in her body for a short while without feeling that stinging pain in the back of her mind, like a bite she had forgot was marking her nape but hurt nonetheless.   
  
A curve south to take MacKenzie Street, suitcases sliding on the floor of the trunk and stopping with a thump against the side of the car, and Clarke knew she would reach home before the last ray of sunshine.

_Home._

Her heartbeat jammed for a few seconds, and she bit her lip to not let her breathing also stop in her throat. It had taken two days for Lexa to convince Clarke to follow the rest of the main cast in the Full House that Octavia and John had found for their stay during the shooting; days spent with Clarke claiming that she didn't want to be forced to push Bellamy Blake down the stairs, and Lexa insisting that she had to prove to be on her way to becoming an actual adult and hold off her temper. The house would be inhabited by 10 other actors, excluding Bellamy, and considering how everyone was creepily enthusiastic about living together, it wasn't the best start for Clarke to say no.

John and Octavia had been quick to find an accommodation with a decent number of bedrooms and bathrooms to house them all, in a neighborhood not far from Downtown and further north to the location of the shooting. The monthly rent divided by all the tenants would be ridiculously cheap even adding the bills--325 bucks was nowhere near how much she would have spent staying in a hotel or in an apartment alone--so Clarke couldn't even use that excuse for trying to break free from the party. A few clicks on Google Maps had then revealed a park just down the road, and for the morning jog the beach just 2.5 miles from there, with West Vancouver on the other side of the mirror of water. Everything was new, and Clarke had spent more time than she wanted to admit memorizing paths around the property, pretending to live a parallel life in which those low and colorful houses, those avenues, those gardens on display, and those sudden slopes into the sunset were a familiar and stable horizon. The sweat on the palms of her hands betrayed her.

The gps croaked to turn left after 300 meters, and Lexa tapped her fingers on the steering wheel.

"I'll park the car in the garage at the back, so if you want to see the front you will have to wait until we get out," said Lexa, breaking a silence that had lasted for the whole hour of drive from the hotel to this part of town. Clarke nodded, wanting to answer but not finding anything to say that would be stronger than the lump keeping her silent.

When the metallic voice warned them to take the next turn, Clarke held her breath and looked to her left, managing to peek at green grass meeting the central steps of a white house with a dark gray roof, in the lot at the corner of the road, before the trees on the side covered the view. Lexa used her blinker and slowed down, accessing the back street and parking immediately to the left, in the downhill lane that led to the garage of the house.

There were already a car and two motorcycles parked inside the open garage, so Lexa cut the engine a few meters behind them, leaving room for other cars, if they came before she left. Apparently not everyone had already moved in, and a couple of rooms would be filled during the week.

Lexa snapped her fingers in Clarke’s face, and she flinched in surprise. "C'mon, help me free my car from your existence"

"It's not your car," Clarke answered, climbing out of the car.

"As long as I'm paying for it it's mine, and I want your stuff gone in 10 minutes," Lexa said from the back of the car, already opening  the trunk and grabbing one of Clarke's suitcases.

"Why the hurry, got a date or something?"

Lexa grunted a "Yes," lifting one of the bigger bags, and turning to lay it on the ground, then thinking better and half-throwing it at Clarke, who had to quickly find the handle before it fell on her feet.

"What the hell, Lexa!" Clarke huffed, trying to lower the huge bag on the ground without crushing her toes. She looked at her agent, busy emptying the car in record time; Lexa was leaving the way behind her free, so she could drive out immediately. "Who's the lucky girl?" Clarke asked trying not to smirk.

Lexa stopped to point a finger at her, "I don't like your tone."

"No seriously, how did you meet her? What's she like? Do I know her?" Clarke noticed that Lexa had resumed her activity with renewed energy, her cheeks growing red with what Lexa wanted to pass as exertion. Clarke grinned.

"Not your business," Lexa muttered, laying the last clutch on one of the suitcases occupying the side of the walkway. She glanced quickly at Clarke as she opened the door to climb in the car. "I'd move out of the way if I were you." 

Clarke quickly dragged the bag on the other side, just in time for Lexa to turn on the car and wave at her as she shifted into reverse and drove out of the property.   
  
“Thank you,” Clarke said sarcastically at the car speeding down the road. Always count on Lexa to help her in difficult moments. She turned toward the house, taking a good look at it for the first time. The garden in the back was big enough to have a barbeque and a wooden table with six chairs, green grass and sinuous cemented lines cobbling the walkway to the garage and the house. Behind and to the sides of the garden trees and oleander plants offered privacy from the main street, while the right side facing the house next door had only a fence and a row of low plants.  
  
The house from the back was squarer than what she had been able to see from the facade, a room on the first floor had a balcony, and Clarke wondered if that was her bedroom, or perhaps the next one with the octagonal shape and large windows. Downstairs she could see a glass door and a spacious patio, right above the garage. It looked lively, neat, and cozy.  
  
Clarke took a deep breath to calm her heart pounding with a little too much decision, and began to drag the first trolley to the house, when the glass door opened. Octavia ran to her, her chocolate hair flying as she jumped down a step, with a smile tasting of friendship on her face.  
  
“You’re here! Sorry, the TV is on and I didn’t hear the car--where is the car? Did Lexa leave already? I was about to order pizza for her too. Oh well, more for us. Oh my God you brought the whole hotel with you?! I hope it will all fit in the room with my stuff too, we have way too many things, Bellamy is always giving me shit for it, he travels with like one t-shirt and never changes underwear, we will just throw our things in his cupboard if we can’t find where to put them,” Octavia stopped to take a breath, and then grinned again, a little shyly this time, “Hi! We’ll be roommates, if that’s okay with you.”   
  
Clarke smiled back, sighing, “Of course. Are you alone in the house? I don’t have Lexa’s arms.”   
  
“Don’t you dare move a single thing, the guys are in and they should be the ones doing the hard job, I’ll call them,” Octavia said, nodding briefly and then jogging back toward the house, screaming “GUUUUUUUUYS” at the top of her lungs. Clarke had yet to have the chance to really talk to her, but the image she had had of Octavia from the audition and the dinner with the cast was of someone different from the cute and energetic girl who had just welcomed her, someone maybe more conscious of her surroundings and the people she was talking to. Clarke had actually thought she would find a female version of Bellamy, and she bit the inside of her cheek, punishing herself for letting her prejudices influence her. It wasn’t Octavia’s fault if her brother was a dick.   
  
Speaking of dicks, a bunch of them were now coming to her rescue. Jasper was the first to arrive and he hugged her quickly, the smile on his face mirroring the one on Octavia’s, like he was genuinely happy to see her. Right behind him was Monty, who greeted her more formally with a nod and a handshake, since they hadn’t really got to speak to each other yet. They both filled their hands with her stuff and started walking back toward the house, innocently talking to each other like they hadn’t just left the heavier luggage to Bellamy and John, who stopped to glare at their backs. Octavia appeared at her side and took her hand, offering to show her the house while the boys brought her stuff into their room. Clarke nodded and let herself be pulled by Octavia, smiling at Bellamy and John as she passed them by. John’s “Hey Clarke!” got drowned by Bellamy’s quiet “Welcome home,” and Clarke swallowed her answer. This was her home now.   
  
Octavia led the way into the house, the first room they walked in being a living room with white walls, a big black leather sofa, a little desk under the glass window facing the patio, a rich carpet covering most of the space, and at the other side of the sofa a modern fireplace with a flat screen TV hanging on the wall above it. Clarke looked at it raising an eyebrow, and Octavia chuckled. “Murphy brought it in as soon as we arrived, even before checking if there were enough beds for everyone. Can’t risk missing hockey and football.”

The living room and the kitchen were part of the same open space, a white counter with two stools separating the two ambients, and Clarke followed Octavia through the room, appreciating the new parquet and the modern furniture. "We're still stuffing the fridge," Octavia said turning around and walking backwards out of the kitchen, "you'll need to tell us if you have a specific diet, we're thinking of appointing two people every week to go grocery shopping for everyone."

"I eat anything, so it's fine. Do you already know who will go this week?"

Octavia stopped backwalking when she hit the large table at the centre of the formal dining room, giving Clarke a few seconds to take in the light and relaxing green color on the walls, the high white ceiling with the classic chandelier, the big arched window showing a glimpse of the front garden. "Are you offering?" She asked.

"Wouldn't dream of it," Clarke replied smiling, then adding a little out of breath "this is lovely."

"Wait till you see the rest," Octavia said, not even trying to hide her proud tone. They reached the glass door on the left and Clarke found another living room, this time big enough to contain even the kitchen. The walls kept the green hue used in the dining room, the parquet was completely covered by a light colored carpet, three sofas closed the area around a classic fireplace. Ground lamps with a warm and soft light were placed alongside the sofas, and there wasn't the slightest shadow of a technological device, be it a landline phone, a radio, a television, or a desk for PC. This was a room made to zone out by the crackling wood in the fireplace, to read a book while it snowed outside, to tell and listen to stories murmured with a low voice. Clarke already loved it.

"This is incredible, how did you even find it?" Clarke wondered, not really caring for an answer as she was too busy looking around and poking ornaments and furniture. A white door at the far side of the room revealed a corridor leading to what Octavia said was the bathroom with the shower. The corridor joined together the formal living room with the open space. Another door led to the laundry and basement suit, which they were thinking about making into a chilling room for when one wanted some alone time playing videogames or watching porn. Octavia insisted it was a must, given as everyone had at least one roommate.

"Did you already see the front?" Octavia asked, and as Clarke shook her head, she bounced off to the main door. "It's the cutest thing ever, it's the reason why I insisted on this house. Murphy was set on a really beautiful apartment facing the sea in Point Grey, it had an amazing view, but as soon as I looked at this one I thought 'home'" She emphatized the word by spreading her arms, somehow already knowing that Clarke would understand what she meant once she walked outside.

It was like looking at a dollhouse, with the steps leading to the front arched door, the dark roof sliding down till the end of the first floor, where two square spaces with identical windows jutted out. One could probably sit on the roof from there. It was simple and symmetrical and just cute. Clarke expected Octavia to open the house from the side like a book, and start putting barbies in it.   
  
“I’m honestly impressed,” Clarke said, feeling her shoulders relax. Maybe this wouldn’t end up being such a bad idea after all, not if she got to live here. “How’s the first floor?” She asked, walking past Octavia and reaching the white stairs for the upper floor. The boys were busy setting down her luggage, judging from the loud panting and John’s annoyed “How come you’re the one with asthma?!” probably directed to Jasper or Monty. Clarke gulped down a snort.  
  
“The bedrooms are just bedrooms, nothing extremely special about them, but they all have cute pastel colors--I put Bellamy and Murphy in the pink one by the way--and there are five of them, plus two bathrooms with bathtubs. The rooms are not exactly big, so we had to buy three bunk beds to save space. The guys are apparently five year olds though, because they’re crazy about them,” Octavia said, then looked at Clarke’s jaw fighting gravity and her eyes going wide, and she was done with the world, “Oh you must be kidding me!”   
  
“But they’re bunk beds! And we could save space for a desk or another wardrobe or a huge mirror.”   
  
“I’ll think about it, but don’t get your hopes up. Now let’s order pizza, I’m starving. GUYS!”     
  
They went back into the kitchen, Clarke took a seat on the left stool and watched Octavia arguing with Bellamy about how many pizzas they should buy, which toppings, home delivery or takeaway, if Octavia would pay for them because of the pink room, or if it could be considered payback for that time when Bellamy put bike streamers on Octavia’s Harley. They were so focused on the argument that they didn’t notice Monty was already on the phone ordering for home delivery, with Jasper interrupting him every three words to remind him to buy an extra portion of french fries.   
  
“They’re always like that, you’ll get used to it,” John said as he took the seat next to Clarke. He leaned his elbows on the counter and shook his head, as if he had to muster a lot of patience to put up with them.   
  
“How long have you known them?” Clarke asked, still unsure whether John was an okay guy or another Bellamy. Up till now he had sent some pretty mixed up signals, and she didn’t know what to make of it.   
  
“Jasper and Monty since the audition, and they’re basically attached to the hip. As for the Blake siblings, who doesn’t know them?”  
  
Clarke looked away, sure that he would be able to read on her face that she hadn’t known the first thing about the famous pair before the audition. It was possible that Bellamy hadn’t told him about her, or maybe John was simply tricking her. Whatever the case, Clarke decided it was best to distract him with another question, “When will the others arrive?”   
  
“Lincoln and Raven went out earlier to look for gyms and routes for jogging, they should be back soon. Finn is busy with a photoshoot, so he’ll fly here at the end of the week; Kane and Jaha are staying with their families until the reading of the script in ten days, and Abby will join us next week. Lincoln and Raven will both be sans roommate until then.”   
  
Clarke watched Monty interrupting the siblings’ fight, telling them that the delivery guy would arrive in less than thirty minutes, and as the bell of the front door chimed through the house, Jasper ran to let Lincoln and Raven in. They all walked back into the kitchen, laughing and talking animatedly. Clarke had never thought about living with her colleagues. Acting and Family were two very different things in her life, sometimes even opposite, and she had been adamant about keeping them separate so her private life wouldn’t stain her safe haven. Now she was between people who had met one other mere days ago, and were already acting as if they were family, like it was the easiest thing in the world to trust a perfect stranger. Like it was sane to even think about doing it. Her heart ached.  
  
“Hey John,” Clarke said, her eyes losing focus on the rich brown of Lincoln’s skin, Raven’s laugh forcing her to wait a couple of seconds before speaking, “I haven’t had the chance to say it at the dinner, but you’ve all had a really nice idea. I still think you’re half crazy and we’ll end up killing one another before the shoot ends, but I’m glad I was invited.”   
  
John patted her shoulder, “We’re glad you’re here too. Wouldn’t have been the same if the main cast wasn’t complete.”  
  
Clarke frowned, glancing at him, “You’re not a series regular though, Lexa told me.”   
  
“I’m Bob’s love interest, I’m incredibly important, you’ll see.”  
  
“Oh well, in that case.” 

  
***

  
After dinner the group gathered in the living room, officially watching a movie, and unofficially taking turns in awkwardly reciting the dialogues on the screen. Clarke had participated for the first half hour, aided by Monty and Octavia who covered the other two characters in the scene, and she found that if she stopped thinking about it too much, her relationship with the others already resembled the one she had with her colleagues in Australia. Maybe it didn’t take that much to make new friends.  
  
About ten minutes after the start of Bellamy’s and Jasper’s turn--a sudden sex scene that had required the intervention of Raven--a voicemail message had arrived from Lexa, and Clarke had slipped on her coat, and went out to get a bit of fresh air on the patio. As soon as the door was closed behind her, the muffled sound of laughter seemed to be light years away. Her fingers were already losing the warmth of the house.  
  
Clarke pulled out the cell phone from her pocket and dialed the number to listen to the voicemail message, looking at the clear sky full of stars from a continent on the other side of the world. Lexa's voice filled the buzz of the cool breeze around her, "Hey, I just got home and I read an email from Dr. Griffin, she wishes you good luck with the job and the new house. She says she will call you as soon as she can, but that 17 hours of time zone difference are hard to manage. That’s all, I’ll call you tomorrow."  
  
The phone had long since marked the end of the call, but Clarke left it against her ear, leaning on the railing and breathing the cold air deeply all the way down to her lungs. When she started feeling pins and needles in her arm, Clarke put the phone in her pocket, going back to studying the constellations from this new corner of the planet.  
  
“What’s such a beautiful girl doing all alone at this hour?” Bellamy’s voice came from behind her.   
  
“Not giving a fuck about you,” Clarke promptly replied.   
  
“So not cute.”   
  
Clarke heard the wood crack under his feet as Bellamy walked to the railing, and leaned his elbows on it. Glancing at him, she found the smirk that she was starting to associate with his fuckboy-persona. Not exactly the company she was hoping for. Actually, scratch that, she wanted to be left alone.   
  
“Listen, Bel--”  
  
“I’m appointing you as my partner for buying the food supply this week.”   
  
Clarke stared at him. “No.”  
  
“Yes. Octavia and Murphy need to make another trip to IKEA, because  _someone_  wanted another bunk bed and a desk. Monty and Jasper will work on the basement suite, and Lincoln needs to workout three times harder than us.”   
  
“There’s still Raven.”  
  
“I’d like someone I won’t end up fucking in the car,” Bellamy said evenly.   
  
Clarke closed her eyes, feeling a knot in her stomach, “God, you’re disgusting.”   
  
“We’re all consenting adults here, I remind you,” Bellamy said, doing a lousy job at hiding the hint of hurt in his voice. Clarke wasn’t expecting him to get offended, since he was so open with bragging about his fuckbuddies.   
  
“Consent means you can say No, I remind you,” Clarke tried to soften the edge in her tone, not understanding why Bellamy kept on looking for ways to start a conversation with her. She had known him for less than two weeks, and every single time they’d had a one-on-one discussion, it had always ended with her pissed off at him for the next 72 hours.   
  
Bellamy huffed a laugh, though he didn’t look amused, “Easy for you to say,” he tapped a rhythm with his fingers on the railing.  
  
“Oh you’re telling me that you can’t help but fuck every single girl that comes at you? You have it tough,” sarcasm dripped easily from her lips, and in a corner of her mind Clarke realized that she wanted to get mad and lash out at someone. She didn’t really know what was pissing her off, and that made her even madder.  
  
“Don’t talk about things you know nothing about,” Bellamy said, his posture speaking volumes on the tension he was doing his best to hide. “I wouldn’t dare to do the same to you.”   
  
“Then don’t invite me into the discussion. I wanted to be left alone, and you came to me.” Clarke shot back, feeling her hands trembling. She needed to get Bellamy to back the fuck off.   
  
“What the hell is wrong with you, you were fine ten minutes ago.”   
  
“What’s wrong with me is that I clearly came here because I needed to be alone, and you decided that I couldn’t have that.”  
  
“I came here because I was worried about you, fuck you very much,” Bellamy snapped, clicking his tongue in annoyance and shaking his head. Clarke knew what that feeling in her chest was, knew that she was venting her anger at the wrong person, but she wasn’t in the right state of mind to force herself to say sorry. Tomorrow would have been another day, and she would have got something right, but in this moment Clarke wanted Bellamy to give up on her and go back inside.   
  
Of course she couldn’t be that lucky. Bellamy blinked twice and his shoulders relaxed again, his head tilted slightly to draw empathy and Clarke’s very personal brand of “shut the hell up”. He then turned to her, “C’mon, I don’t want you to stay mad at me, I want us to be friends.”  
  
“Then you shouldn’t have been such a dick since the first day,” Clarke said, exasperated by his insistence. The guy just didn’t know how to take a no, and Clarke was this close to crossing the line between repressed anger and open rudeness. She watched his eyebrows draw together, then as he recalled their first meeting his face grew slack in a completely different way than before. This time he had understood something, and the question was if he was pitying himself for the discovery, or her for being the source of it.   
  
“You know, for someone who was supposed to want this so much, you’re acting like you can’t stand it.”   
  
“I can’t believe you still don’t know where you fucked up. I wanted to earn this! With my own strength, not for you to use your fame or whatever to have your way. I’m not one of your toys, I’m not one of your groupies, I’m not one of your fans, you can’t use me for your own amusement. This job was the most important thing in my life, and you stepped on it like it was nothing,” Clarke forced herself to take a deep breath, trying to rein down the anger running through her body in a higher wave every time she thought of how Bellamy’s action had ruined her first big step into her new life. She had wanted to be someone new, someone braver, bolder, more confident, more independent; instead she had found herself tied to someone else’s whims, and she had accepted it. This was what stung more than anything else: she had wanted this so much that she had jumped on it without a care for hows and whys. It was a new side of herself Clarke hadn’t ever seen before, but it sure as hell wasn’t a trait she wanted in her new-self. And just as much as she didn’t want to see that side of her, Clarke realized too late she was bringing to the surface a part of Bellamy that she dreaded to see even more.  
  
“Well newsflash, Princess: the world doesn’t revolve around you. You can’t expect people around you to give you what you want without getting anything in return. You wanted something, I wanted something, Jason wanted something, we all got what we wanted in the end. Stop stomping your feet and just say thank you!” Bellamy emphasized the end of his turn by banging his hand on the railing, making the wood complain with a sharp creak, and Clarke automatically flinched, holding her breath. Whatever Bellamy saw in her eyes deflated him so quickly that Clarke guessed he was acting calm, more than being so.   
  
“I’d like for you to accompany me to the grocery store on Wednesday,” he said, looking remorseful. Clarke would have enjoyed that expression, as she had imagined it several times in fantasies where he said sorry for involving her in his little power game, but she was too busy keeping track of his movements, counting his breaths and the angry lines around his eyes. She waited for his mouth to go back to a fuller shape, for the light from inside the house to cast a shadow less grotesque on his features, then attempted to shift her weight from one foot to another. He didn’t react to her movement, and Clarke considered the danger gone for now.   
  
“Okay,” was all that Clarke managed to say.   
  
Bellamy studied her for a few seconds, then sighed and went back inside, muttering not to stay out too long because it was getting cold.   
  
Later that night, Clarke was lying in her brand new bed in her brand new home, Octavia’s face lit up by the screen of her iPad as she played a puzzle game on the other side of the room. Occasionally one of the other tenants would go to the bathroom, thumping the floor with heavy feet covered in socks, or with lighter steps in soft slippers, then go back to their room, drowning the house in silence once again. Clarke had kept herself busy for the last half hour by counting the shadow-leaves on the ceiling from the tree illuminated by the streetlamp outside. A sudden breeze moved the shadows and made her lose count, she cursed under her breath.   
  
“You want to come here and watch me play?” offered Octavia, who must have been this close to moving into Raven’s room, thanks to Clarke’s shitty attitude.   
  
Clarke sighed and rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands. “How come you’re Canadian and Bellamy’s Australian?” she asked, hoping to find sleep easier by clearing some of the mess in her head.   
  
Octavia didn’t stop tapping the touchscreen as she replied, “Parents divorced when we were little, I stayed with my mum and he moved to Australia with dad. We stayed in contact through internet until he moved here again.”   
  
Her tone didn’t suggest the topic was bothering her, so Clarke assumed it was safe to ask again. “So the ‘Blake siblings’ phenomenon is fairly recent?”   
  
“You could very easily google it, you know,” Octavia said with a smile, “but yeah, he moved here like four years ago, at the beginning of his career, and we immediately started working together. I wanted to be close to him, so I took acting classes as soon as I could.”  
  
“Nice,” Clarke said, casting her mind back at the ceiling. It was as easy to talk with Octavia as it was to fight with Bellamy, and she had wondered for hours how such a sweet girl could be so close and so different from him at the same time, but growing apart might have played a big role in the gap.   
  
Octavia shifted under the blanket, turning toward her, “You should try and get along with my brother, you know. He’s not a bad guy.”   
  
“We have some unresolved issues, so to say,” Clarke pursed her lips, embarrassed by the awkward situation. “Did he ask you to tell me this?”   
  
“No. He told me to keep an eye on you, though.”   
  
“What?!” Clarke’s head snapped to her roommate, not really processing what she had just said. Octavia’s expression hadn’t changed, the soft taps of her fingertips on the screen in contrast with her admission. This wasn’t the kind of thing you said while playing a puzzle game like it was even remotely normal. “When? What are you talking about?”   
  
“After the audition,” Octavia said, briefly glancing up at her, “after the audition he told me that we had something in common and I could trust you as a friend.”   
  
Clarke’s raised eyebrows must have been cue enough, “My mum remarried a dude who got angry a little too often after he moved in with us.”   
  
There wasn’t any need for her to say anything else, and Clarke failed to breathe. Octavia waited for her to comment on it, tapping her iPad lightly without even the slightest tremor in her fingers, without a single worry on her face. Octavia was quickly becoming way more than a simple “roommate” and “Bellamy’s sister”, and Clarke didn’t want to know how Bellamy had managed to read her at the audition.   
  
It took two tries for Clarke to gain control of her vocal cords, “Where is he now?”  
  
“Far away from here, thank God. I guess yours is too?”   
  
Clarke nodded, twisting the bedsheet between her fingers to distract her brain from conjuring any images in her mind, now that her ears were already focused on the sound of glasses clicking against the neck of a bottle. She didn’t think she would be able to handle a flashback right this moment, when they were treading ice so thin one could breathe through it. Octavia’s calm was grounding though, and Clarke shifted her attention on her steady breathing, trying to mirror it.   
  
“You can talk to me about it whenever you want, you know,” Octavia offered in a gentler tone, leaving behind the cold and unbothered attitude she was wearing till minutes ago. Clarke nodded again, forcing her muscles to relax, and getting into a more comfortable position. She didn’t turn her back on Octavia though, finding the rhythm of her  _tap tap tap_  soothing enough to lull her into sleep.   
  
When she finally closed her eyes, Clarke saw herself on the patio with Bellamy again, a confused look on her face as she studied him and tried in vain to understand him. He didn’t look happy either, the tension in his spine hardening his posture and producing a creak like old parquet under heavy boots at his every movement. He needed to unwind, and she was about to imagine a happier Bellamy, when sleep caught complete hold of her, and her fantasy faded into nothing.   
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [Zoadgo](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Zoadgo/pseuds/Zoadgo) for saving my stories from themselves. They would be a mess without you.
> 
> And obviously thanks to anyone who will read it, comment it, _kudos it_ , ignore it etc.  
> Feel totally free to contact me here or on [my tumblr](http://coldsaturn.tumblr.com)!


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